


Won't let you down (again)

by Auginess



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Badass Mycroft, Brotherly Love, Concerned Sherlock, Cute watson, Excessive use of the word fuck, Feels, Gen, I Don't Even Know, I hope I won't regret this too much, Mary is pregnant, Mention of torture, Moriarty has a girlfriend, Moriarty is Alive, Not quite sure of what I'm doing, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Out of Character, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sassy Sherinford, Sherlock wants revenge, Spoilers, This all started as a joke, or so i hope
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-08-18 23:40:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8180117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auginess/pseuds/Auginess
Summary: After years without knowing anything from him, Sherrinford shows up at Sherlocks' door, and this time Sherlock is determined to protect him... But what will happen when he discovers his brother holds the key to win at Moriarty's game? How far will Sherlock take it? How much will Sherrinford be able to stand?And, once everyone he loves is in danger, how will he save them? Just my theory for season 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there!  
> This is my first fic ever so I'm not sure of what I'm doing (like really, have no idea) but a friend insisted so... This is all for her ;)  
> English is not my mother language so sorry for any mistakes (if you point them out for me down in the coments I shall be forever grateful).
> 
> New tags may be added at the begining of every chapter and I'll try to update weekly.
> 
> Any suggestions or ideas you have will be taken into account if you make me know. 
> 
> Hope you like it!

Sherlock replayed Moriarty’s video again.

  
He was fucked.

  
He already knew that, of course. He was going to die in Serbia, anyways. Now he needed to fight Moriarty another time and he was probably going to die in that damn game of his.

  
And the worst part of it was that he liked it.

  
He could lie to the people around him and he could try to lie to Moriarty, but deep inside him, a part of him liked the fucking game. A part of him wanted to play.  
Of course, he normally excused it by telling himself it was just a way of surviving, but when Mycroft stopped the plane and he saw the video, something very deep inside him cherished his return.

  
So, well, fuck that part of him.

  
It was wrong to cherish Moriarty’s resurrection, for fuck’s sake. But even worse than that was to cherish his resurrection because that way the game continued. And he wanted to win.

  
It wasn’t a true victory if Moriarty killed himself. And, to be honest, he had let him down.

  
Fuck it.

  
He hated the game, he truly did. If maybe only his life was in danger it would have been fun, but with innocent people, innocent kids, involved, goddammit! he couldn’t enjoy it. And still a small part of him liked it. And he hated himself for it.

  
But then again, was there something he didn’t hate himself for?

  
Fuck everything.

  
He frowned slightly. Normally, his swear words repertory was larger, but that night it seemed reduced to fuck.

  
Maybe because that’s what he wanted to do. To fuck Moriarty and not in the nice way. He wanted to fucking destroy him and end up his fucking little game. He punched the arm of the sofa, hard.

  
Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  
Suddenly he heard someone knocking at the door.

  
He jumped out of the chair and ran downstairs. With Moriarty back it could be anyone, and he wasn’t going to let Miss Hudson open the door.

  
It was too late, anyways. She was already outside. Before her there was a young man only a few years older than him, with deep blue eyes, brown locks and a shade of beard on his cheeks. He had a troubled look on his face that made his beauty tormented. He was damp because of the rain, but didn’t seem to care at all.

  
When their eyes met, Sherlock knew he was completely gone.

  
“Sh… Sherrinford” He didn’t move an inch. “Please, come in.” It probably wasn’t the best of the ideas, but then again, fuck it. He hadn’t seen his brother in years and he obviously needed something. He was, for once, willing to help a brother.

  
It took Sherrinford a while to start moving and to enter the house and when he did he looked like a scared animal. Sherlock grabbed him by the arm in order to make him take a sit but he shook his arm forcefully, with a panicked expression. Sherlock let him go.

  
It ached.  
After all these years, his brother was so ruined, so utterly destroyed, that it was painful just to look at him.

  
The always confident hands that taught him how to play the violin, now trembled violently. His eyes were empty from the mischievous glimpse they always wore when growing up. Sherlock closed his. Deep within that man was the boy who played enigmas with him, although he always won. The boy who raced against him when there was no one in the street, always ready to heal him when he fell.

  
He had loved him so much.

  
Until one day, he disappeared.

  
And when he came back… Sherlock shivered at the thought. He was barely able to remember those days. The screams during the nights, the cries during the days, the paranoia… And the relief of drugs.

  
“Call Watson” He said to Miss Hudson.

  
This time, he was going to save him.

  
He was going to save his brother and destroy Moriarty.

  
Brilliant plan, actually.

  
Miss Hudson came little after that.

  
“Sherlock, dear, I was going to call John, but he is already here. With his wife. I think it is because of the video”. He nodded distracted.

  
“Sherrinford…” He begun, but then his brother started shaking violently. The fear in his eyes was so deep something broke within Sherlock. He looked over his shoulders.  
A very confused Watson and a very concerned Mary lingered at the doorframe. Sherrinford grabbed him by his shoulders, in the middle of a panic attack, unable to breath at a normal rate.

  
“Go.” Sherlock forced himself to sound as calm as he could and waved his hand to his friends, silently asking them to leave. They hid in the kitchen. Then he kept whispering reassuring words to his brother, until, eventually, he calmed down

“Please, Miss Hudson, bring a cup of tea”. The old woman rushed to the kitchen too and Sherlock looked at his brother.

  
Tears fell down his cheeks, his body still trembling.

  
“He will kill you” He whispered. Sherlock kept his poker face.

  
“Excuse me?”

  
“He wants to kill you. Because you are smart” He started crying again “He will kill you”. Something broke inside Sherlock and he hugged the man. He gave him the familiar, comforting kind of hug.

  
The one Sherrinford used to give him when they were a lot younger. When Sherlock thought he was never going to have a normal life, that he was a weirdo without happiness in his future.

  
“It will be alright” His brother used to tell him “You are strong. And whenever you feel you need to be stronger, come here and I’ll hug you until you realise you are more than strong enough. And strong people always have happy endings, remember?”

  
Now he couldn’t bring himself to say those words, so he just keep hugging him until Miss Hudson brought the tea.

  
“Wait a second here, okay? I need to talk to someone. But I will be close, if you call my name, it will only take me a second to reach you”. Sherlock didn’t remember using that reassuring tone before, but then again, he didn’t remember having to take care of someone like him.

  
With his phone on the hand he went to the kitchen.

  
“Come”. He ordered Watson.

  
“Wait a second, Sherlock. Who is he? What’s wrong with him?”

  
“He is my brother. And that’s what I’m going to discover right now” After that John nodded, following him to the upper floor without asking more questions. That was why he loved him so much.

  
Sherlock dialled Mycroft’s number.

  
“Brother” A voice at the other side answered. Sherlock put the speakers on

  
“Sherrinford is at my house. And don’t you dare to tell me you’ll send someone. I want to know why he is in that state”

  
There was a heavy silence at the other side of the line.

  
“Is… Apparently it is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder”. Sherlock hold his breathe.

  
“Why?” His voice sounded was low and sounded dangerous. John looked at him almost in awe. He had never seen him like that, protective and concerned.

  
“We don’t know”

  
“Your brother comes home with Post Traumatic Stress and you don’t fucking know?” Sherlock and Mycroft relationship had never been quite loving, but the venom Sherlock endowed his words with was something brutal, even for them.

  
“I’m sorry”

  
“I bet you are not. What. Did. You. Do. With. Him? I’m only asking once”.

  
“I called doctors who diagnosed him with PTSD. They told me to make sure he was in a stress free environment so took him home and hired a body guard to keep an eye on him. He spend most of his time in his room. You knew that already, Sherlock. You were there when he returned. Were you too high to remember?” That comment did hurt

  
“Did you ever visit him?”

  
“Why? Did you, brother?”

  
“I was having problems”

  
“I know, Sherlock. You were busy drugging yourself, I was busy working. None of us visited. But what about when you “cleaned” yourself up? You left home and never visited. Don’t act as if you were better than me. I’ll send someone so they can bring him back”

  
“No”

  
“No?”

  
“I’ll take care of him. He is my brother, he won’t be denied my help”

  
“Oh, didn’t knew you felt so strongly about family”. And he hung up, letting the irony in his words float in the air. Sherlock looked at John.

  
“Have you heard that?! He secluded his brother in his room and hired someone so he couldn’t go out. How could he?”

  
“ I don’t know, Sherlock”

  
Silence fell between the men before Sherlock dared to speak again.

  
“Why don’t you examine my brother? Maybe he has scars or something we could use to know what happened”

  
“You truly have no idea, don’t you?”

  
“My brother disappeared when he was eighteen. Police looked for him, but didn’t find him until five months later. He was injured and scared. He screamed for everything and couldn’t sleep. He became paranoid?. He even killed my dog, Redbeard, thinking he was going to hurt him. Home became Hell. Mycroft was working already and move out as soon as he could. I started with the drugs. My mother got depressed. I don’t remember much, but by the time I stopped consuming, I was already living on my own”.  
John looked at his friend in silence. He knew his life had been uneasy, with a brother like Mycroft, an addiction to drugs and those sorts of things, it couldn’t have been any other way. But this was a whole new level. And right now, the concern in Sherlock’s eyes was unbearable.

  
“I’ll check him up. But not right now. Tonight we'll give him something to tranquilize him and tomorrow morning, once he has had some sleep, I’ll examine him” Sherlock gave him a weak smile and left the room.

  
Downstairs, Sherrinford was drinking his tea in apparent calm.

  
“Hey”

  
“Hey”

  
Sherlock approached him, a pill in his hand.

  
“Take this” His brother looked at him in confusion “It’ll help you sleep. Take it, rest for a while, and tomorrow… we’ll see what we can do” Sherrinford nodded and took the pill.

  
There was something in him, maybe the blind trust between brothers that he had long ago forgotten, that Sherlock needed to protect. Maybe more for himself than what he was ready to admit, but the truth was he had already lost his brother once and no matter why he came back to him, he wasn’t going to let anyone take him from his side again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!  
> And with another chapter. This is just some Mary x John fluff because of reasons.   
> Again, English is not my first language, so if you see any error, please, tell me!  
> I hope you'll like it!

Watson woke early that morning, feeling the tiredness from the sleepless night dragging him down into the mattress. He groaned and turned to the left, wanting to find the warm of his wife’s body. Of course she was gone, probably making breakfast already. She always knew what he needed.

As his mind cleared and he recovered some of his senses, the sweet smell of something baking reached him. Apparently, Mary was getting ready for a day cuddling between blankets and watching TV while eating muffins. A part of him wanted to stay with her, wanted to lose himself in her eyes and spent a lazy morning in the bed. But Sherlock needed him. 

He dressed up and went to the kitchen, stopping by the doorframe so he could look at his wife without being noticed. She still had her nightdress on and John smiled, loving the way it fell around his belly, making so evident her pregnancy. 

Gods. 

He was going to be a father.

A goofy smile drew on his face. Just a few more weeks and that little girl was going to be in his arms.

Watson hummed loudly, making himself present. Mary turned around and smiled at him. She had some flour on her right cheek and was slightly flushed and looking at her John felt he was the luckiest man ever. 

“How are my two favourite girls?” Mary bite her lip, still smiling and approached him. 

“I’m great” She stole a brief kiss from his husband “But your daughter… Is a bit nervous today”. Softly she guided his hand to her belly, so he could feel the baby kicking inside her. 

“Oh, my. I bet she is going to love football”

“She better be a football star then” They both laughed. “Have you slept well? You are going to need all your strength today” She muttered, worry in her eyes.

“I’ll be fine. I’m more worried about Sherlock. I’m afraid of how this may affect him”. Mary nodded her agreement silently, her eyes gazing to the floor. 

“Poor Sherlock. It looks like he is never going to have some peace… First Moriarty, then Magnussen, then Serbia and now Moriarty again. And as if it wasn’t enough, his brother. I wish I could do something to take some of his burden from him”. Warm spread through Watson chest. He loved the way his wife cared about Sherlock, the way she cared about everyone, actually.

“You are too good to be real, darling” Mary laughed at that. 

“I know, right? I have even made Sherlock some muffins”

“You haven’t!”

“Oh, yes. The dark chocolate ones, I know how much he loves them. But don’t feel left out, love, because I have made the vanilla and berries ones for you too” John kissed her, first softly and sweet but the kiss escalated until they were kissing passionately. When they separated to breath, Mary was still holding him. If only he could stay with her longer…  
But Sherlock needed him.

He pushed her away, carefully.

“I’ll grab one and go”

“No, dear, have at least some coffee” She pledged while giving him the box with the muffins. It had a pink lace holding it together, and in her soft handwriting there was a note wishing Sherlock and his brother were alright and hoping they’d like them. John smiled. She was almost an angel. 

“I don’t want him to spend too much time on his own. I’ll have some at his house”. And although John could see the disappointment in her eyes, she gave him a small smile.   
“Okay, darling. Don’t forget to ask Sherrinford which muffins he likes so I can make him some!”

“I won’t. Have a nice day” He kissed her again. It was something he could never grew tired of. “I love you”

“I love you too.”

“And I love our daughter.” 

“I know” Her smile grew bigger. “She doesn’t know how lucky she is with a father like you.”

“And a mother like you.” Another kiss. “I should really go.” He said, more to himself than to his wife. 

“Take care.”

“I always do.”

“I meant of Sherlock.”

“I know. I always do.” 

And after that, he left. He didn’t kiss her one last time because he knew that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to go. 

But even as he walked away, the feeling of happiness and content didn’t abandon him. 

If only he could share some of that peace with Sherlock.

If only he could make him truly happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!   
> Any sugestions, leave them in the comments!  
> <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey.  
> I'm so sorry!! I know it's been ages since I updated.  
> But this year is hell and I have to really concentrate in my exams, if my grades aren't good enough I won't be able to study what I want in college.  
> And I don't know what you know about Spain situation right now, but the government was fucking around with education laws, and then we had almost a year without a government (I don't think you want an actual explanation about this, so to sum up: the situation was so pathetic we ended up shipping politicians between them, just to kill time. I may write some fanfiction about that someday) and now they still fucking around with education, so we don't know what will be in our exams to access college, and yeah, everyone is stressing.  
> So, I may take longer to update. I'm sorry. 
> 
> As always, english is not my first language, so any errors, please, please, tell me. 
> 
> And, WARNING: Sherrinford teases Watson in this chapter and there is some imaginary sexual tension. Nothing big, but thought I should warn you <3
> 
> BTW, I sort of enjoy killing characters, so, if there is anyone you would like to save, you may ask for them to survive in the comments. I can't promise I'll save them, but I do promise I'll try XD (Some people are already begging for Sherrinford, just to let you know. I think It's because they know me and know what I'm capable of XD )  
> Enjoy this chapter! And please, tell me if you liked it. Reading comments gives me motivation to keep writing ^^

Sherlock was waiting by the door by the time Watson arrived. He was actually surprised to find him outside, but said nothing about it. He guessed that if a lost brother came to him in the middle of an anxiety attack, he would be impatient too.

“Good morning” He said. And before John could answer him, he was already heading inside. The doctor followed him.

Sherrinford was at the living room, sitting by the table, drinking some tea. He was wearing Sherlock’s shirt and jeans, but was barefoot, probably because he didn’t fit in his brother shoes. Under the soft, natural light that entered through the window, he looked much more relaxed than the previous night. He looked younger than his brother, with the hair dishevelled and a joyful gleam in his blue eyes. He smiled at him when he entered the room, resting the head on one hand.

  
“Good morning, doctor Watson” He said softly.

  
“Call me John, please”

  
“M’kay, John” He paused and then looked at his brother “Sherlock told me you were going to examine me”. Well, it seemed that going directly to the point was a habit that the three brothers shared.

  
“Yes” Watson paused then to look at the man. He was almost smiling, but not quite, managing to keep a perfect poker face while still being friendly. Was he even willing to let him do this? How many times had he been examined by Mycroft’s order, without his consent? “But only if you want to”. He added. Something shone in Sherrinford’s eyes as he straightened himself a little bit.

  
“Sherlock will feel better if I agree. And, to be honest, you look like a good man. I have no problem on letting you examine me… As long as it is in private”. He gave Sherlock a significant look.

  
“I’ll be waiting outside” He said, expression blank. He glanced at Watson one last time, almost thanking him, and then left the room. Silence fell upon them. But not the kind of silence he was used with Sherlock, when he was so concentrate on something he could almost hear his head working; or the silences with Mycroft, when the older Holmes analysed him in the most polite way. No, this was the kind of silence where you know the other person is thousands of worlds away, searching for the words in planets that only exist in their heads. The kind of silence that preceded true friendship, betrayal or terrible confessions.

  
John looked at Sherrinford, but he was staring at the ceiling, lazily reclined over his chair. He coughed and the blue eyes met his.

  
“Could you please undress?” Watson asked, voice uneasy. It was awkward to ask that question outside a medical office, even if he was speaking as a doctor. Sherrinford sensed his awkwardness and raised an eyebrow, without moving an inch. The doctor shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

  
“My, my _John_ ” The tone Sherrinford used to spell his name was full of double intentions and almost sinful. Watson felt he was starting to blush. Without breaking eye contact and as slow as he could manage, Sherlock’s brother rose to his feet, hands on the first button of his shirt. Watson tried to say something to escape that weird situation but he could only manage to open and close his mouth a few times. Sherrinford burst into laughter.

  
“My God, John. You should have seen your face” He managed to regain some seriousness. “I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable or anything”. But it was obvious he wasn’t sorry at all. John smiled.

  
“It’s nothing”. And it was true. He had always liked a good joke, and actually, he had been the one that had started imagining situation just from a heated look and tone.  
Sherrinford took out his shirt.

  
“Pants too?” He gave him another wicked smile, but Watson ignore it this time. He was too caught up on the vision of Sherrinford’s torso.

  
He was covered in scars. Some of them looked like burns, other like arbitrary cuts and some of them looked as if he had been stabbed. Watson made him turn around. His back was equally covered in scars. Long lines of burned skin covered it and other scars looked as if they were done by a flogger.

  
Everything in Watson’s mind screamed torture.

  
“And… you don’t know what happened? Did you… forget?” Sherrinford laughed again, but this time it was a tormented laugh.

  
“I wish I could forget it”. It took Watson a few minutes to process the information and then he closed his eyes briefly. He really pitied the man.

  
“Then why neither Sherlock nor Mycroft know?”

  
“Mycroft knows. But we decided not to tell Sherlock. At first he was too young, then he started with the drugs and now… Now I know I need to tell him, but I sort of don’t want to. I feel as if I should protect his innocence somehow. Older brother things, I guess”. He smile tiredly.

  
“Sherlock is not that innocent”.

  
“Yes, he is. He thinks he knows everything, that there’s logic under all our actions… Sherlock is innocent in his own way. And you know why I know it?” Watson shook his head. “Because only those people truly innocent find refuge on their own mind. Show Sherlock something he cannot analyse and you will be destroying the foundations of his own mind”. He waved his hand in an abstract movement. “His mental palace”. He paused. “You can look it every way you want but there can’t be logic in torture”. He was trembling again.

  
“Sherlock is strong”.

  
“I know. I watched him grow”. He smiled, lost in memories, although he was still shaking visibly. He moved around the living room, checking on the staircases.

  
“He will be able to stand it”. Watson looked at him. He was obviously fighting against anxiety and although John had been in a war, there was nothing he could do to help in the battles that occurred inside the mind.

  
“He wasn’t the first time. I…” He grabbed a jar from the staircase. “I need to keep protecting him. He is my little brother”.

  
“Then… Why did you say you needed to tell him?” Sherrinford returned to the table and poured a few pills from the jar into his hand.

  
“Because Moriarty did it”.

  
And Sherrinford took all the pills at once, hoping they would kill his memories.

  
Hoping they would kill his demons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!!!!
> 
> I hope you'll have a great week <3
> 
> Please leave kudos or comments if you liked it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck and I'm sorry. Believe or not this was suppose to be finished before january :) I should like really die or something.  
> Please remember that English is not my first language, so if there are any errors tell me and I will correct them ^^
> 
> I always write like too much in here, so yeah, I'll shut up now

It took John a while to get Sherlock to calm down. A few hours actually, but not less than what was expected, given the situation. For John it was enough that he hadn’t left the house, gun in hand, ready to do something really, really dumb.

                It was actually the smell of food what reminded them of the time it was.  

                “It’s late. You should go” Sherlock said after a few minutes of tense silence. Now that the wrath was gone he just looked defeated. He felt defeated too. Watson chewed his inner cheek, feeling powerless to help.

                It must be so painful to blame yourself for something that terrible, especially if it had happened to someone you loved that much.

                And with that, John was hit by the sudden realisation.   Sherlock had never said he loved anyone in his family nor had he showed that kind of love towards anyone until Sherrinford. Somehow Watson had long ago assumed that Sherlock’s relationship with his whole family was cold and polite, like the majority of the other relationship in his life, but he was starting to think that that wasn’t something you could actually have with Sherrinford, he didn’t think the other Holmes would allow his brother to treat him like he treated Mycroft.

He could picture it clearly: A young Sherlock and a young Sherrinford, playing, teasing each other. He could almost feel the love Sherlock had for his brother.

                That was why he couldn’t stand it when Sherrinford returned. Because Sherlock needed family and a home too, and his brother was both things for him.

                “I think I’m staying”. The “you don’t have to face this alone” floated in the air, but Sherlock got it anyway.

                “Mary…”

“I’ll call her” Watson didn’t allowed him to finish the sentence, because he knew it wouldn’t take much to make him go back to his wife.

As Watson dialled his wife’s number, Sherlock walked into the kitchen.

Sherrinford was carefully washing the dishes, the sleeves of the shirt that was a bit too small for him, rolled up to the elbows. Something was slowly cooking next to him.

Sherlock supressed the desire to come from behind and scare him, like in the old times, afraid of how his brother could react. They weren’t children anymore, anyway. So instead, he coughed to make himself present. Sherrinford just gazed briefly over his shoulder.

“Hey”.

“Hey” there was a brief pause before Sherlock spoke again “You don’t have to wash them yourself, you know? The dishwasher works”.

“I’ll wash them anyways. They say it’s good for me, the psychologist I mean, to do things with my back turned to the door. And it can’t be things like watching TV or anything that keeps my mind busy, but something much more mechanical. Washing the dishes and cooking are good options”. Sherrinford closed his eyes for a second, allowing the cold water to run down his wrists. A part of him believed that having reached that point the best thing he could do was being completely honest with Sherlock. The other part wanted him to shut up, for Sherlock but mostly for himself, so he didn’t had to see the pain in his brother’s eyes.

“Why with your back turned to the door?”   

“Uuuh” He trailed off, Sherlock moved closer until he was by his side “When I returned, it was one of the things I couldn’t bring myself to do, I was afraid of someone coming from behind”. Sherlock eyebrows furrowed in confusion a few seconds and then realisation shone in his eyes. Sherrinford looked away, but honestly he was sort of expecting his brother to get it. The greatest detective and all that.  

“How were you kidnapped, Sherrinford?” His voice was soft and almost emotionless, but Sherrinford knew best than to believe it was.

“I was… in my bedroom, finishing some things for school. Mum was working, dad shopping, you were at the school labs doing something and Mycroft was returning some books to the library” He reminded it so clearly, every detail, how the light came in through the window, the smell of warm spring mornings in his room, the peacefulness and calmed happiness that for years he could only felt in memories “I heard the door open and assumed it was mum. I was so concentrated in my homework I didn’t notice it when someone entered in my room until I was hit in the head with the back of a gun. I had barely time to turn and look at them before I was hit again, and then I fainted”. He stopped there although there was so much more… The panic when he awakened, alone, in the dark, restrained. The screams that had left his throat so sore that even breathing was painful. Everything was painful there, actually. And now, years after, the pain continued in his brain, in his memories, in his nightmares.

Sherlock didn’t answer immediately and Sherrinford looked down, at the water running between his fingers, without knowing what to do.

His brother’s hand ghosted over his shoulders as soft comfort and after that Sherlock left the room. Sherrinford turned just in time to see him dragging the doctor upstairs. He sighed, suddenly feeling angry.

That was not happening.

He closed the tap, retired the food from the stove and then followed his brother’s steps.

He opened the door forcefully and looked at the men, Sherlock sitting and Watson standing by his side. He ignored the best he could the defeated look in his brother’s face, he knew that unless he wanted to spent the rest of his time in Baker Street surrounded by whispers in the hallway, looks filled with pity and secrets he had to be strong right now.

“As I see it there are only two possible explanations for your behaviour, Sherlock”. His voice was soft and velvet, the tone he used when he was very, very angry. It could only be defined as the peace before the storm. “The first one is that you needed to fuck Watson so badly you weren’t even able of answering me before dragging him to a more private place…”

“I’m married” John interrupted. Sherrinford gave him a condescending smile that got him feeling stupid for saying it.

“I know. I saw the ring”. He answered him like if he was talking to a child and Watson wondered if he learned that from Sherlock or the other way around. “This take us to the other possibility” His voice raised “and is that after all this years I spent dealing with what it happened, after being the one who was tortured, after surviving even when everyone expected me to kill myself, you don’t think I’m strong enough for whatever you have to say”.

“Maybe I thought you were going to be a burden for the investigation and didn’t want you around.” It was a blatant lie, basically because Sherrinford could know some key information about Moriarty and because he had never been a burden to Sherlock, but he had to try.

 “Then I guess I can’t complain, but in case you ever wonder if you are going to hurt me or whatever remember that. It’s alright, it really is, I don’t mind helping. I know exactly how your mind works. Moriarty is back and now I’m a clue. But do not treat me as child, don’t get all overprotective with me and if you have something to say I want to fucking hear it. If at some point I can’t stand it, I’ll let you know but I am not dealing with you running away every time you have something to say about me. Have I made myself clear?”

“Cristal clear”.

The answer was apparently enough for Sherrinford, who brought back his smile, not the condescending one, but his true smile. The one that lighted his whole face up and made people want to smile back. 

 “I made pasta, shall we go downstairs and eat it? I’ll call Miss Hudson too so she doesn’t have to be alone” And with that he left the room, full of energy, as if his previous rant had never happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments if you saw something I could improve or if you just want to encourage me or whatever <3
> 
> Oh, and Happy New Year.
> 
> I love you all <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!  
> I'm back!  
> I'm having a tough time, that's why I'm always so slow when updating. I'm trying my best though and I will try even harder, so bear with me.   
> English is not my first language so if you could point out any errors I'll love you forever <3  
> And also, after rewriting this chapter like 5 times I'm publishing it without reading it. Sometimes I just get in the "nothing I write is good at all" and I delete way too much. Is something I really need to change. 
> 
> Btw, If you have already watched S4, I sort of feel like apologizing because this is like totally the opposite XD  
>  Well, I'll stick to the original idea and hope I can make something half decent out of my theory.

The second the door closed behind Sherrinford, Watson turned to look at Sherlock.

“You really think he’ll be a burden for the investigation?” He asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous. He may not have my deduction skills, but he is still quite useful. He knows things about Moriarty and he always know how to help”.

“So then he was right, wasn’t him? You think he won’t be able to stand it”. Said Watson thoughtfully. He had seen some other PTSD patients, he knew the symptoms and knew that many weren’t able to recall their experiences without suffering panic attacks, even years after the trauma; however he had thought that Sherlock was intending to push Sherrinford, to make him remember regardless the pain he was to experience. Knowing him he wouldn’t let his feelings interferer in the investigation, not with Moriarty back.    

“No, John. I didn’t hide it from him because I thought he wasn’t strong enough” he said, looking at him. For some reason he felt he had to explain it, and even when he knew that Sherrinford should be the one hearing it, it was easier if it was John “I know exactly how strong he is, I mean, he saw the man who tortured him saying that he was back and his first reaction was coming here to protect me, how could I ever think he is weak?” He swallowed heavily “I wanted to hide it because I am the one who is not strong enough. Because if I start investigating, if I get Sherrinford to help me, if I discover everything that he did to him and I make Sherrinford believe that I’ll get Moriarty but then he wins again, I… I don’t know what I’ll do”. Watson looked at his friend, not knowing exactly what to say. Because he knew how very destroyed Sherlock would end if Moriarty won and because he wasn’t expecting this and at the same time he was.

 “He won’t win, Sherlock. He won’t.” He said with all the confidence he could, but he knew Sherlock didn’t believed it. Neither did him, anyways.

“The possibility exists”

“Even if it exists, your brother is right, you can’t be all secrets and white lies around him. You should go and tell him what you have just tell me”. Sherlock gave him a tired look.

“That it was all my fault? That they entered the house to get me? That he was kidnapped only because I wasn’t home? He already knows it. I bet he knew it from the second they mentioned me. No one runs the risk of breaking into someone else house if they are not ready for the final step, they were going to kill me and instead they kidnapped my brother. And he knows it is what I told you too, you’ve heard him, he does know how my mind works. People tend to assume that all the brightness in the Holmes family went to Mycroft and I but Sherrinford is incredibly smart himself. He is just kinder and kind people are often perceived as less intelligent. He knows he was tortured because they couldn’t find me, what happens is that he doesn’t care”

And then, Watson realised what had been sounding so weird to him the whole time.

“You have said “they tortured him”.”

“It was what Sherrinford said…”

“No, no, Sherlock. You have used a plural. Sherrinford has used plural the whole time. Since when does Moriarty works with someone?”

“Oh my. How could I not notice?” And his tone was slightly bitter with self- reproach

Sherlock and Watson looked at each other for a few seconds before rushing downstairs with Sherrinford.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Moriarty works with someone. How does the revelation feels?   
> Pay attention to the tags because they'll start to change soon...
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> Please leave comments with whatever I can improve/ you liked, because it really give me motivation to write faster! 
> 
> I love you all <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! <3  
> You are wonderful.  
> If you saw anything I could improve, please, tell me in the coments ^^.  
> Magosh I'm like super exited about this? And a bit nervous too.  
> Thanks for reading again, you rock!


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